the key of uncertain

[nepheliad.livejournal.com]

She'd been on stage for a bit, but she was an attendant, a guest, not a performer, and so Luca Delaney-Breillat thought she could take a break. It was easy to get lost in the party, in the haze of people and voices and motion; dance and fun and sex and drugs and rock and roll. It was the end of her senior year of high school – she was going to conservatory right near by, and so she'd still see a lot of these people a lot of the time.

Still living with her parents.

Whatever.

Didn't bother her any, because she wasn't thinking about it, martini in hand, working her way to the crowd to get a glimpse outdoors, on a balcony where two or three seats sat unused, and in one single seat, one single person. Awkward Alice Jalmari, AJ, who wore a tux to her junior prom. Weird pale kid. Not the most popular. A few months off in age to Luca, but a grade behind. Wrong months. She barely knew AJ, though she saw her around.

And saw her in the moonlight, onyx hair and porcelain skin making those blue eyes even brighter, and in an instant she was sitting next to the girl, talking about something, she had no idea. She didn't know why she was socializing with someone she'd mostly skipped over. She did know she had to have her. Couldn't resist, not with the light on her like that, not with the music filling Lou's head louder than it ever had just by looking at a person.

They drank together, for a little while, Lou's fingers itching to touch more every second – to touch AJ, to touch herself, to touch the keys of a flute.

The seats moved closer. They were still talking about nothing but the sexual tension was tangible, and yet still distant. Still too soon. Neither was that drunk.

"You're pretty," Lou whispered, and it was the best first kiss she'd ever had.